Heaven's Divide
by MistressMaryD
Summary: Post SH3, virtually PWP. Is she insane? Is she even still alive? She doesn't know, nor does she care; as long as he's there with her. HeatherXVincent No flames please.


Heaven's Divide

"Vincent…why is it just us?" The simple question is asked in a heavy gasp. The priest smirks and pulls the young woman to him as he thrusts into her; drawing a loud gasp from her pale pink lips. She drops her head back and her nails bite into his shoulders. "I'm sure we'll find out." He answers, smiling as she lets out a helpless little cry and clutches him tighter as he begins to move.

He loves it; the sounds she makes, the way she feels against him, around him. She's young and tight and lovely and he just can't get enough of her.

She moans and kisses him; her entire body quivering in his arms. And the thought of just how naughty she's being is so exciting, so taboo; sleeping with a priest, she can't help but enjoy what he's doing to her. It helps a lot that he's quite good.

"I-I never get, a straight answer from you." She gasps out with a sarcastic laugh at the end as she looks up to the man above her and runs her hands through his hair. Vincent chuckles as he lowers his head to kiss and bite her neck.

His hips snap into her a little harder; drawing a cry from her. She tosses her head back, panting, flushed, her hair sticking to her forehead. Their naked bodies slip against each other in a rhythm as old as time; they're chest to chest and she's clinging to him, whimpering, moaning and gasping.

He wonders if she'll ever tire of their trysts.

She wonders if he'll ever tire of her.

She's not like him; she doesn't believe in god, she doesn't believe in religion. She doesn't approve of the Order or what they do. She swears and she's violent. He's mostly calm and although he has his moments; he never flies off the handle.

But during times like this, none of that matters. Times like this, she's simply a young woman and he's simply a young man; both looking for companionship and release.

She's shaken from her thoughts by his lips and teeth marking the skin of her neck and chest. She decides its best she lives in the moment and leave the questions for later. She slides her hands out of his hair and holds him to her by his back; her arms going underneath his own and her hands feeling his muscles flex under his skin as his thrusts grow harder and more intense.

Her nails scratch his skin and leave their own marks as she drops her head back against the lush bedding and lets out a gasping, needy whine. She reminisces. How many times have they coupled like this? How many more are to come?

He was her first. She remembers the whirlwind of emotion that went with that night. She remembers the doubt, the pain, the desire, and everything else that went with it. She remembers that was the first time he showed his true colors; his gentle motions and comforting words surprised her but she loved them. She wonders if he remembers.

He does. The first initial surprise of her telling him she was untouched, how flattered he felt that she wanted him as her first; that very male feeling of satisfaction when she broke for him. He remembers the sweet things he'd said through the experience, and how she looked so surprised when he wiped away her tears and kissed her as he began to move in her.

He pulls himself away from her breasts and watches her. Her eyes are closed now; her teeth biting down on her lower lip and her blonde hair a wild mess as she tilts her head back; her neck straining as she pulls in hurried breaths.

And he smiles. She's never prettier to him then when he's pleasuring her. He loves knowing that all the little noises she makes and all her blissful expressions are made because of what he does to her. His movements become hurried and sloppy as they both approach that oh-so wonderful release.

Her breathing becomes more forced, all of her shaking; trembling as his name falls from her lips and she holds him to her. Everlasting paradise could not compare to how he was feeling now, Vincent decides.

Her inner muscles squeeze him tighter; spurring him on as he gathers her closer in his arms, whispering to her just how close he is and all the things he wants to do to her, not only here in his bed but throughout the house and in the church no less!

His low voice, his words and motions prove too much for her resolve and she crumbles; reaching her release with a weak cry. The feeling of her, hot, tight and wet gets to him and he finally reaches that peak with her and lets himself go; spilling inside of her with a low moan of contentment.

He allows himself a few moments before sliding out and lying beside her; pulling her spent, shaking body against his and rubbing her back gently. "_That_ is almost enough to make me believe in god." She comments breathlessly and he laughs softly. She settles and quiets in his arms; all trace of her joking aside.

"Do you remember? The first time we did this?" She asks, unable to keep it to herself anymore. He smiles. "I do. You were so scared." He answers, watching her eyes as she looks up at him from his shoulder. "I was, but I'm so glad we did; you made it better than I ever thought it'd be."

He knows. He's not always the sarcastic, cynical bastard he appears to be. She shifts closer and throws a leg over his own. "Whatever happened to 'vow of poverty'?" She asks, going back to being playful. He chuckles. "Doesn't apply. And I can't imagine you'd be content making love in a dingy room with an old, squeaky bed." He replied, tickling her side.

A squeal of laughter erupted from her and she squirmed in his arms till he stopped. "I wouldn't be; I was just wondering." She answers, yawning as she rests her head back down on his shoulder, draping an arm over his chest and settling down.

She chuckles to herself. She wonders what her father would think of her if he knew. Surely she's insane; but then again, she wouldn't be surprised if she was after all Silent Hill had put her through.


End file.
